


Lost Dreams of Rall Elorim

by squirenonny



Category: Cosmere - Brandon Sanderson, Stormlight Archive - Brandon Sanderson
Genre: 31 Days of Sadfic, CFSWF, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-18
Updated: 2015-07-18
Packaged: 2018-04-09 21:40:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4365173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/squirenonny/pseuds/squirenonny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lift has just turned eleven, and she's pretty sure that's an unlucky number. She won't let it stop her, though. She has some dreams to make real.</p><p>Written for CFSWF 2015.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lost Dreams of Rall Elorim

**Author's Note:**

  * For [OreliaW](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OreliaW/gifts).



Lift told herself to forget the ones she’d left behind. Her parents, her brother, the other children she’d run with for a day or a week or a month—never any longer, not in Rall Elorim. The City of Shadows wasn’t nice to folks who let their hearts win out over their heads. Better not to get attached, so Lift wouldn’t let the ones she’d left drag her back into that pit of cremlings.

They were all dead anyway. Everyone she’d known. She’d watched most of them die, and for the rest, for the ones she’d walked out on in the middle of the night… Well, it was safer just to assume they were never coming back.

She’d thought of leaving before, but fear was a funny thing. Easier to live a nightmare you knew.

This time, with a fire in her side from a guard’s boot, with an ache behind her eyes from too long without good sleep, with an emptiness in her middle that went beyond pain; this time she’d been too hollow for fear. She’d just turned eleven, and she had already realized it was an unlucky number.

She left with nothing but the clothes she’d worn for weeks. She left without telling anyone, a panicked dash though haunted streets, past guarded gates, and into the night beyond the walls.

At first she hadn’t known where to go, so she’d hitched rides on any wagon that would take her, walked toward anything that looked like food, and slept where she fell once exhaustion caught up with her.

Somewhere near the border with Rira, she started to remember.

She didn’t _want_ to remember. She didn’t want to remember the ones who had taken her in for a night, who had taught her to pick pockets and burgle houses, the ones she’d met when hiding from the guard, who had shared a few minutes of distraction before they returned to their separate nightmares.

There had been a time when she’d collected names. Scuff. Wyrt. Slip. Lynna and Eram. Twitch and Sharm and Con. People in Rall Elorim didn’t like giving up their names. Most picked a new name once they hit the streets, anyhow.

That was all right with Lift. She still found out their names, and she hoarded them the way the rich folks on the hill hoarded spheres. They were her treasures, the forgotten people of the streets with their forgotten dreams.

Lynna had wanted to see the spren—or god, maybe, Lift wasn’t too sure on that—that lived in Kasitor. So Lift turned away from Rira and headed back the way she’d come, following the foothills to the far coast.

Twitch and Sharm had argued about the Purelake and whether it really was as big as people said. So Lift went there, stealing food and clothes and hiding with parshmen in Babatharnam when she needed somewhere to shelter from a highstorm.

Wyrt said his da lived in Sesemalex Dar as some sort of big important somebody. Lift wasn’t sure she believed him, but she went anyway and spent a month searching just in case.

Slip’s dream was one Lift had to work herself up to. But the older girl had looked out for Lift for more than three months—practically forever, in Rall Elorim. She of all people deserved to have a dream come true, even second hand.

So Lift went to Emul. Turned out folks got real worried when you asked about the Nightwatcher. A few places ran her off, screaming about Voidbringers and Desolations.

Lift wasn’t sure what all that was about, but she was more careful after that.

The rumors took her east into the mountains, east past the last people. Climbing was hard, especially when there was no one to steal food from. There were some weird rockbuds up in the mountains, but they were starvin’ _hard_ to get open, and after a bit even those stopped showing up anywhere she could get to.

She climbed anyway. For Slip, she would climb to the top of a highstorm.

A few days without food almost made her turn back, but she’d promised, and she didn’t like going back on promises. Not ever. She’d chased down everyone else’s dream, anyway. After Slip’s, there wasn’t much left for Lift to do.

She wandered the mountains for days, not sure what, exactly, she was supposed to be looking for. Not sure she wanted to find it, but she’d starve before she backed down from this.

The way things were going, she might _actually_ starve.

When she finally found the Nightwatcher, it was almost disappointing. One second an empty hollow between two towers of rock. The next, a woman. Not even a _scary_ woman. Just a tall lady in a black dress that looked sort of _smeared_ at the bottom, like dirt that was only half washed away.

Well, alright, Lift _might_ have been more impressed—just a little—if she hadn’t been half dead with hunger. When _had_ she last eaten? She’d found a little dried-up vine two days ago, but she wasn’t sure that counted.

Sitting on the rocky ground, back against one of the tall rock pillars, swaying a little when her eyes fuzzed, Lift stared up at the woman, who looked more surprised at the situation than Lift.

“So you’re the starvin’ Nightwatcher, are ya?” Lift huffed. “Slip’s not missing out on much.”

The woman frowned, her dark eyes taking in every inch of Lift. Not that there was much to see. By now she figured she was at least half clothes and hair, and most of the rest was bone.

The Nightwatcher glided across the rocky ground like shadows in Rall Elorim, but instead of sticking a knife in Lift, she just knelt down and looked into her eyes. “You have come far to find me,” she said, and Lift couldn’t help but grin at the sound of it. Wasn’t every day you impressed a big wicked spren-witch. “Ask your boon, child.”

“My what?” Lift squinted at the lady. Slip hadn’t said nothing about a boon. Whatever that was.

There it was again, a flash of surprise in the Nightwatcher’s eyes. She wasn’t a very _good_ witch, was she?

“Did you not come to ask something of me?”

“Naw, I just came for a friend. Ain’t you gonna kill me?”

The Nightwatcher’s dark lips twitched into a smile. “I should think not.”

Lift nodded. Waste of energy that was, killing someone who was already dying. “Almost wish you would. I don’t want to die of starving.”

“Very well. I accept your request.”

Fear yanked Lift to her feet. Funny, she hadn’t thought she had anything left in her to stand on. She’d snatched up the closest thing to a weapon there was up here: a rock with a sharp edge, only a little bigger than her fist. Wouldn’t do much, a rock like that against a witch. But she’d spent too long fighting for life in Rall Elorim to give it up now.

There was a tinkling sound, like the wind chimes she’d seen in the Purelake. It was the Nightwatcher, and she was laughing. At Lift. The starving witch was _laughing_ at her!

“I’m not going to kill you, little Radiant.” The smile twitched wider, like she knew something Lift didn’t. “You have your boon and your curse, and be glad I like you! Most people who find me come out much worse off than you.”

A _curse_? Voidbringers, Slip _definitely_ hadn’t mentioned anything like that!

But…Lift did feel better. She was still hungry, but it was a weaker sort of hunger. Her head was clearer, her legs still strong, even without that first surge of panic. Was that her, what was it, her boon?

Lift looked down, afraid she might have got turned into a ghost or something. She didn’t like the sound of that curse bit.

But she didn’t _look_ different. Lift opened her mouth to ask the Nightwatcher what it was all about—but the valley was empty. Empty except for Lift and a few windspren dancing up above her head.


End file.
